


Left and Leaving

by elendri



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elendri/pseuds/elendri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A homecoming gone awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left and Leaving

Nezumi idly scratches at his nose, wondering if this whole process might go a bit faster if he were to just knock out the security guards and waltz on through. 

He bites back a sigh. He still isn’t used to going about all this in the legal way. Standing in lines, having his ID out and ready to be scanned, remembering to hide his knives in the little compartment he’d devised in his bag that no security guard had yet been able to detect. 

Honestly, he’d take the sewers over this nonsense any day. 

But traveling has somehow made him more respectable; he blames old Aro from No. 3, who had somehow honed in on Nezumi as someone without any proper ID and proceeded to make a lengthy sales pitch to Nezumi on how having such would surely aid him in his future endeavors. Nezumi had tried to resist, but the old man was stubborn as a whore who thought she hadn’t been given her due. And so, regretting each silver coin he counted out, Nezumi had bought himself a fake—but very well made—ID badge. At any rate, it had been good to have something to flash at the nosier cops who wondered why some punk was lurking around the local theaters at night. 

“Next,” the security guard drones. 

Nezumi hitches his bag higher on his shoulder and steps forward. 

“Identification,” says the guard; the bored tone makes it sound like he’s said the word 800 times already, which is possibly the case. Nezumi hands him his badge, which the guard swipes through the reader and promptly hands back to Nezumi. “Here for business or pleasure?” 

If only Nezumi himself knew. “Business,” he decides on a whim. 

The guard grunts in acknowledgement. “Can you please open your bag, sir?” 

Nezumi swings the bag off his shoulder and unzips it for the guard, who gives it a cursory examination before handing it back over. _And my knives are safe for another day_. 

The guard motions for Nezumi to go through the checkpoint. “Thank you for choosing No. 6. We hope you enjoy your stay,” he says in a monotone before turning to the line behind Nezumi. 

Nezumi grips the strap of his bag and walks on through, feeling like the guard has just jinxed the entire trip.

* * *

The first thing Nezumi notices as he exits the building is what he doesn’t notice. 

Specifically, the Moondrop; it is conspicuously absent from the No. 6 skyline. 

He can’t help feeling that Shion was the one behind it. Shion had never liked City Hall’s design, had he? What was it he’d called it? _A blister on the earth_. Nezumi smiles to himself—Shion is purging the city, healing it bit by bit. Just as he’d known he would. 

Where is Shion now? 

Nezumi comes to a halt as it occurs to him that he really has no idea. _Idiot. Why didn’t you think about this before?_

He bites the pad of his thumb as he thinks. His best option is probably to track Shion down through other mutual acquaintances, and he knows which one is his best shot. It’s just a question of whether or not he can track _her_ down. 

Nezumi decides that the optimal first move is to see if Karan is still situated at her little bakery. He knows where it is, though he supposes he’s surprised at himself for remembering after all these years. He’d trailed a completely oblivious Shion home from work one day, long before Shion had joined him in the West Block. He’d figured it would be good to know where the kid lived in case an emergency arose where he needed to orchestrate a break-out in the dead of night or something. It hadn’t come to that—things had come to a head more quickly than Nezumi had originally guessed—but still, it had been a smart move at the time. 

He gets his bearings, and then Nezumi heads off towards Lost Town, his real journey just beginning.

* * *

The person in the bakery is not who Nezumi was expecting. 

“Well,” Inukashi says flatly, one hand on her hip and a scowl on her face, “look at what finally dragged its sorry ass back into town.” 

“I missed you too, Inukashi,” Nezumi dryly responds. “Where’s Karan?” 

“She had errands to run,” Inukashi says, slowly shrugging one shoulder. “I watch the shop for her sometimes.” 

“Never pictured you as a little shop girl,” Nezumi teases as he slides into a chair. 

“She pays me well and gives me sweets to bribe Sion with,” Inukashi says. “Totally worth it.” 

Nezumi snickers—he still can’t believe Inukashi is a mother. “Well, since Karan isn’t around, I suppose you’ll do,” he says. His expression settles into solemn stillness. “Where is Shion?” 

Inukashi pulls out the chair across from Nezumi and sits down, fixing him with a hard stare. “Why?” 

Nezumi raises an eyebrow, surprised by the hostility coming off Inukashi in waves. “I figured I’d say hello. Since I’ve finally dragged my sorry ass back into town.” 

Inukashi’s hands curl into fists. “No.” 

He hadn’t been expecting Inukashi to welcome him back with open arms, but Nezumi hadn’t expected this sort of reaction either. She seems downright pissed that he’d come back. _What the hell is going on?_ “Come again?” 

“No,” Inukashi repeats, staring down at the table top. “You should just go. It would be better for him if you just left.” She looks up to pin Nezumi with a piercing glare. “Again. That’s what you’re good at, right?” 

“Inukashi,” Nezumi says carefully, “what the hell are you going on about?” 

“He’s doing fine now!” Inukashi cries, shooting up from her seat. Her hands tremble with suppressed rage, though there are tears in her eyes. “Better than fine! It took him a long time to get there, but now he’s—he’s in a good place! Don’t take that from him. What do you think it’ll do to him to see you again? To see your back when you leave again?” Nezumi feels like he’s been socked in the gut when Inukashi gives him a pleading look that is so uncharacteristic as to be foreign on her face. “Don’t. Just go. Don’t get his hopes up again. You know you won’t stay. So just go now. While it won’t hurt him.” 

Nezumi feels cold. He’d known he’d hurt Shion by leaving, had seen his tears and heard the tremor in his voice when he’d begged Nezumi to stay. But seeing Inukashi now in all her fury and fear…the realization of how deep that hurt must have gone really hits him. 

“I want to make it up to him,” Nezumi says. It slips out before he even gives himself a chance to think; he just wants Inukashi to stop looking at him like that. “I had to go before, but I promised him I’d come back, and I have. I need to keep my promise to him. Please, just tell me where he is.” 

“But you didn’t promise to stay, right?” Inukashi pushes. “So what’s the point of keeping that promise if it’s just going to hurt him again? You know you won’t stay, Nezumi. You’ll pack your bags again sooner or later, and he’ll be left to pick up the pieces. Don’t put him through that again.” 

Nezumi can’t help but be moved by Inukashi’s passionate pleas—and it hurts him. For Inukashi to be so protective now…well, quite frankly, Nezumi doesn’t even want to think about what a wreck Shion must have been. Certainly he was far worse off than Nezumi could have predicted if he’s managed to stir this sort of defense from Inukashi. 

It feels as though someone’s upturned a bottle of lemon juice over the wound that’s been throbbing since he first turned away from Shion. 

“Please,” Nezumi says, hating how pathetic he sounds, hating how he can’t think of anything else to say, “please tell me where he is.” 

Inukashi studies him for a minute, her expression stormy. Then she turns on her heel and walks away. 

Nezumi feels something shatter inside him. 

“This is where he works,” Inukashi says. She’s leaning over the counter as she speaks, her tone gruff and conflicted. “He’s probably still there. Works ridiculous hours all the time.” She turns back to Nezumi and holds out a piece of paper—upon which she’d scribbled out an address. 

Nezumi stands to take it from her, smiling at her with relief. “Thank you, Inukashi, I really—“

Inukashi snatches the paper out of reach at the last second. “One more thing,” she says. “Don’t go and see him tonight.” She glares boldly at Nezumi, a challenge in her eyes. “Take the rest of the day and really think about this. Think about your future and where he fits into it—if he does at all. Just…know what you’re doing before you talk to him. If you still want to see him tomorrow, here,” she holds the paper back out to Nezumi, “you know where to find him. But just pause for tonight. Think about what’s best for Shion.” 

Nezumi slowly and carefully takes the paper from Inukashi. She steps back, hands on her hips and staring fixedly at the floor. “Well, go,” she says harshly. “I have nothing else to say.” 

Nezumi can’t help the smirk that touches his lips. “It was good to see you again too, Inukashi.” 

She doesn’t respond; he hadn’t expected her to. 

Back outside the bakery, Nezumi glances at the address Inukashi scrawled out for him. She was right to tell him to wait until he spoke to Shion—his thoughts are too much of a jumble right now for that conversation anyway. He’ll take the night to get his mind in order. 

But first, he just needs to see Shion.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Nezumi is concealed behind some shrubbery across the street from Shion’s office and wondering if he’s completely wasting his time. Inukashi’s assumption that Shion was still at work had, after all, just been an assumption. 

He’s just beginning to feel grumpy about how long he’s been on his feet and considering calling it a night so he can find a bed to crawl into when he catches a glimpse of white hair passing by a window and heading towards the lobby. 

Nezumi leans forward a little, eyes trained on the glass doors. And then—

There he is. 

Shion, right before his eyes for the first time in over four years. 

Nezumi’s eyes drink in the sight: Shion’s grown taller (but then, so has he), face narrower, frame thinner. His hair is still that brilliant white, and even from this distance, Nezumi can make out the red scar on his cheek. So similar to the boy in Nezumi’s memories, yet so different. The obvious touch of Father Time on Shion’s features creates a strange hollowness in Nezumi that he can’t quite explain. 

Nezumi watches as Shion shrugs on his coat with a smile on his face. It is then that Nezumi notices that the smile is aimed at someone—Shion is not alone. He seems to be with a group of his coworkers, all of them smiling and chatting as they prepare to leave together. Nezumi instinctively leans back into the shadows. He won’t quite admit to himself that his resolve to not speak to Shion that night had been wavering; seeing that Shion isn’t alone now takes the decision away from him anyway. He wants their reunion to be something just between the two of them. 

The glass doors open, and the people in the lobby begin to spill out. Nezumi sees Shion hanging around the back of the group, chatting with a woman with long dark hair and a Beauty Queen smile. When they exit the building, it’s not hard for Nezumi to make out their voices. 

“Come with us, Shion! We hardly get to see you outside the office—you’re getting a reputation as a workaholic,” the woman teases. 

“Is that so?” Shion wryly replies. “Well, in that case, I suppose I must allow myself to be dragged along.” 

“And drag you we shall,” the woman says triumphantly as she loops her arm through his. The group laughs and begins to move as one down the street, away from Nezumi. He sees the woman turn to say something to Shion, but they’re already too far away for Nezumi to hear it. But whatever it was, it makes Shion throw back his head, laughing hard enough that the sound reaches Nezumi. 

An icy feeling travels into Nezumi’s gut. The sound is utterly foreign to him, and for some reason, that makes him feel troubled. Had Shion ever laughed with him? Surely he must have…but never like _that_. 

Feeling conflicted, Nezumi slinks off into the night, melting away into Shion’s silent shadow.

* * *

Shion hums to himself as he jangles his key ring. He locates the right key, slides it into his front door, and slips inside, flipping on the switch that spills yellow light out onto his porch before he shuts the door behind him. 

Nezumi isn’t quite sure if it’s a curse or a sigh that’s welling up in his throat, but he swallows it down. He’d trailed Shion all night, watching him with his coworkers—his _friends_ —as he drank and laughed, watching him with the Beauty Queen and seeing a fondness in Shion’s eyes that stirred bitterness inside him. He’d taken it all in, and while he’d known before he arrived back in No. 6 that Shion would have made a life for himself, it’s only just now hitting him that Shion’s made a _life_ for himself. 

Without Nezumi. 

_I am such a fool,_ Nezumi thinks. 

Why had he even come here? Did he really think that he was obligated to fulfill some stupid promise he made years ago? Well, to hell with that. What the fuck do 16-year-olds know about promises anyway? They should know enough not to make them, that’s what. Nezumi is suddenly deeply exasperated with his 16-year-old self. 

Feeling weary beyond his years, Nezumi turns on his heel and walks as quickly as he can away from Shion’s house. His desire to find a place to sleep suddenly feels like a desperate need, if only to escape these thoughts into the solace of his unconscious mind.

* * *

Nezumi once again finds himself on the corner across from Shion’s house at noon the next day. 

A quick glance up and down the street shows that this neighborhood is likely filled with other 9-to-5ers like Shion: few cars remain in any of the driveways, and most of the houses seem empty and silent. Good. 

Nezumi swiftly crosses the street, beats up the steps to Shion’s front door, and picks the lock in six seconds flat. 

He’d taken a detour past Shion’s office building before heading over here, and had been unsurprised to see Shion settling into lunch with the Beauty Queen and a few others. The coast is clear. 

Nezumi can’t help himself from wandering through Shion’s home, taking in the stack of paperbacks on his coffee table, the framed pictures on his walls, the overflowing laundry basket and the stack of dishes in the kitchen sink. Shion’s decorating seems to be mostly comprised of his clutter, but it isn’t off-putting. There’s a well-lived feeling here. The organized chaos is actually a bit reminiscent of…

_Right. Not going there. Just do what you came here to do, moron._

Nezumi circles back to the kitchen where he’d spotted the very thing he needed: paper and pencil. He settles himself at the table…and freezes. This is so cowardly. So, so cowardly. But there doesn’t seem to be a better option. 

Nezumi swallows hard and writes: _It was good to see you again. Take care of yourself._

He pauses before adding: _This is for the best._

The words seem so empty, so cold, so weak. But what else is there? There are no words at all that could make this better or easier, but he can’t bring himself to simply leave without a trace. He’d made a promise that he can’t bring himself to break, yet he also knows he can’t completely fulfill it. This is all he can give Shion. This is all he can allow himself. 

But Inukashi had been wrong. It isn’t a question of whether or not Shion will fit into his life—but whether or not _he_ can fit back into Shion’s life, and if he even has any right to be there. 

The question had haunted him well into the night and greeted him first thing in the morning. 

Nezumi still doesn’t have an answer. He knows he won’t for a long time. 

But he does know that he can’t risk hurting Shion until he figures it out. 

Nezumi gets up to fetch a book he’d seen and brings it into the kitchen. He slips the note just inside the cover and leaves the book on the kitchen table. He knows when Shion sees _The Happy Prince_ , he will immediately know who was here. Shion will know who left him that note, who is leaving a promise unfulfilled, who has once again walked away and left him behind. 

But it’s the only thing Nezumi can think to do. 

It’s tempting to linger in this house. This is Shion’s home, where Nezumi can find all the things that make up Shion. He can explore and figure out what Shion’s been up to all these years, what possessions he treasures, what memories he holds onto, what kind of tea he drinks and the soap he must smell like every day and whether or not he uses floss. 

It’s so very tempting. 

And for that reason, Nezumi swings his bag back onto his shoulder and walks swiftly out the door. 

Later, when the security guard tells Nezumi that he hopes he enjoyed his stay and will return to visit soon, Nezumi grits his teeth and blinks away the sting in his eyes. 

(And he thinks for a brief moment that perhaps someday they’ll be able to pick up where they left off, except then it hits him that where they left off, Shion is happy with someone else, and he is just a coward.)


End file.
